01 September 2017


27 AUGUST 2017. 


I thought’d spend August lounging and sitting and awash in the nostalgia of the crucible l was forged in, that of Norman Lear’s. But found too many opportunities and changes to let slide by. now,  new was the making of a magic story , supposedly as against Harry Pouter as not, which a throw away line against its creator womb, kept getting likes as it did when she opened her lower brow, middle is out of the equation here, yap, told me I was on the right track. I did on and off all month as built the priory of the upping witch Wendy, and sent it  earlier to a sampled retail witchy far out website, and was told un so many words, my paragraphs connecting this witch to the rest of my we are the mods, world, more Adam West than Christian Bale world, amazingly was verboten, as they weren’t there to allow me to do as Norman would say advertisements for myself, and the world building I have been told I am a Robert Altman like adherer of , was unnlawd in our droll, dire, dreary world, as that again the Tonyverse and my  Librariea is the least thing that some lesbians Germanic and or  war complied ,want to see remade.

I have an inkling there is ‘too much Johnson’ in America, as called it  in an accepted essay, for the crime families of carpetbaggers want to really deal with, as the ghost of lbj, I am practically a Doris Kerns Goodwin, but less rosé sunglasses, in my Machiavellian admiration for our cinchy Lucifer, whose end as sad as it was meant and end to the assassins creed of American politics, just in time for Fredo Like Brother Teddy to lose on his own, as a lucked out TYBERIUS WHO DIDN'T merit a noble Roman death. I was shocked that a few liens of mention of the bigger Tony land Were worthy of disqualifying, as she, this pagan witch, well Italian, there is no difference, opaquely when sued by born again Jewish trash like Medved, --really hate him as a gal picked up on as she cranked out a petition to get fascists off the democratic allegedly channel, yeah good luck, as he has taken over for Glenngary Glenn Back as my go to American Savonarola. Pagan, used as a uncultivated dismissal by he and other Jews for Jesus, and how my various Jewish allies and mentors have hated them,  wooo weee!, merely means poor in old Latin, as that showed what caused old secretary Paul of Tarsus, as Maureen Dowd called him, not again getting the joke, loved mistily about his beloveds,  like Pricilla and Gaius  was their being kinder than not to the help. But then in Judea’s new and old, always be closing, and it was nice  to see that Arrec Baarrwin start to be asked you here again…?, who I do not dislike, but cmeon, when one has a history as Ma says, leave the rest of us be with the hard sell, went to that mugging well once too often. As they found too in 1973, amid Watergate, when had to have various meatheads and Lee Grants upon a telethon as if the Assembly were but crippled kids and Jerry Lewis dead no less now, when the nightly news or big mouth Cronkite is doing your bidding so fulsomely every night, well, the money for commercials from the heralds and the Jewish indulgence to collect and slice up in bags of wam, well, it starts to go away, but when do men if the people ever learn anything but though what to tip on a bill of a three hundred dollar lunch…? 

I was shocked that was told to get rid of these mentioned of other books I have made or even published, as I  WASNT SURE WHAT SIN THIS WAS, DID THAT MEAN I DON’T as Machiavelli said HAVE the wherewithal seceded to be a good American, after all…what did that mean…? In the land of Stan Lee what is too much anything, and why cant I carte my won universe as a reset from and insult to a land where sanctimonious niggers work for war incorporated and giggle trough the gunshots. Ah, but dearie, this crowd is no Romans senate, and they feared freezes as all old slaveholders do, see Gaius and Priscilla above, and so the idea of assassins in the night, or radicals with knives, frightens the purple sashits, as if I  caught the Tactitus qualities of the  USS JOHN MACKANE running into an alter of Virgil’s,  with men strewn everywhere, and the dead escorted back to an Augustus who  is keeping his own council, till the coda is needed, if I got that, our scared Scarred   duping old man, must have made a gesture to ward the evil eyes away, no matter what he tells the chanters back in the woods. So according to Tactitus remember, Alan Moore dear, who I have come to admire though in reading his annotations for century, which I found a lovely time warping gorgeous romp, as adored Emma Peel, too, as a kid when the Avengers where on late night nights on CBS too, very thing he says of Romans is true, including the dreary Bodica, but wither mentions the vulgarity of the Britons, again, the palimpsests are always failed and smeared, even the druids sing of Hercules. And their barbarian whine and accent drove that Latinist up the volcanic wall. 


I saw another opportunity to take this essay of magic and send it to some other dump, and not the one sent to me by the loveliest gal, but alas, as I was redoing it and rewriting with eye on novelizing it as much  a just assay or a short  story, had a bad  vibe  as feel many these days of sanctimony. As saw in their submission guides, which mean much more, conversely, the lower on the totems you are getting, that certain words and ideas would only be allowed able if done of censure by the Antagonists, as again its not a Virgil Luna measure we are inn, we barely notice the dead soldiers anymore, Barry is perpetually running for something, what we are never sure, so, the gather thing of men at the reefs and the bodies of dead sailors are so much collateral friendly fire  damage, a trifle, a Piffle, nothing when coleuses of jadedness with to striate the world with bombed bodies and  dead flurry that comes when grave robbers get far too big for  their little boy blue britches. I had a bad feeling  then, as already did and remade and edited a first chapter, but with this anti Virgilian feeling, that only certain people felt certain things, unless of coarse, you know, the patron and his gal have  fallen out of  the imperial bathroom again, and another  of Augustus girlfriends had to be ended, you know  because, well, the glass staigel repeal act hadn’t been signed yet, what kept you…? and unbox the whoopee machine, we have another  Incognito to destroy, somehow were all running for office excepted Madame Pillozzi who like old man dago river just keeps bribing alonnnnnnhhhhhggggg…. and  so, you know, well, dears, Situational ethics aren’t ethics at all, an eventually despite the laughter, people target to have to ask ,wait, what mostly do you believe in….?And you cant Bill up and smirk your way through everything,  hence the Oviddian tie, that some cunts will alas  hold against me, my translating it, for middle browed ears. So nerving up, this I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it anymore, but out made the most if it, and did a quick first chapter dealing with the eclipse I had just sort of seen, again, only for the Wag the doglike love of the credit.

[had to repair tis page before sending it out as kept in an aip leather satchel, the yellow of the previous page actually started to seep through...]

With some days to go before their willie nillly deadline, and they all almost always are, I end it in the shattered story, as couldn’t recall if it as 8000 word limit, like the one the gal sent me or 7000 as saw and knew this written in stone guidelines are as bullshit and ephemeral as being a liberal now, all one to cheer the drones attacking. I finished the tale with room, and days to spare around the time of Alfred Hitchcock’s birthday and watched again as l did of his wonderful show, starting half of great Hollywood as it did. Wendy was my slyest  Veronica Lodge, Moonbeam, made the star, which does bother many, but not lesbians though, as again have always been able to appeal to them if not of the wholly drop dead lead pipe snitch, dead solid perfect cold water fat, lead pipe lock, dykes. But, rather of waiting for the 31st, their aside about who the bad people are, such a remnant of the Potter they seemed to dislike, but admire none the less, like you and Bill Clinton, I allowed it up with swears, as homer would say, and of caste made Gingold Rheingold, the hated, hateful, murderous Blond, a ‘Tom Boy’, as irksome a moniker  to some today as it was when Boccacchio was putting it all down on paper. I sent a short apologia for who THIS WAS, AND  WHY as written, about and for, and sent it at 7:20 on a Sunday night, in midsummer, ah but when sweep the dust behind the door, be careful that the gusts of hot arc don’t hurl them back at you, in your face. As within moments saw a response, no way it was made through a my paragraphs, I mean like minutes, showing somehow is always living their lie, and how this did not contain my name rank and serial number , as the other did and wasn’t supposed to, as keeping you off kilter and on edge is how New Judea works, ask Sicilians, or Palestinians, as the case maybe. 

And accrue of 212 words over 6000 as was provided let be below 6000, that meant in anal retentive magic firsts that it was verboten, even though as I sent back I had six days until the predetermined cut off date, but then as it has been since demeaned and distressing and banished by the vineyard of gangsters as Verdi, for an essay about my adoration for herod,  as evil again depends on where you are standing, as he trued with Roman backing, fine to kill ANTHOCIUS BOYS, BUT YOU KNOW, TRIED TO SAVE ISRAEL FROM A CREW OF PRIESTS, WHO EVEN CICERO KNEW ALWAYS EXEMPT THEMSELVES FROM WAR AND TAXES AS THEY DAMNED YOU PAY THEM YOUR TITHE. That was quick, but was starting to settle in for a lovely Sunday night of Oscar and Felix, Maude, and Barney Miller recalling that hated nostalgia, lest we recall when almost one in 5 Americans were not living in abject poverty, as the National Biscuit Company and the Jews who brought you homeland, team up again, to bring shot darkies back to Sunday night television , as even the summers Cowboys games aren’t doing well with Trump already in, and no longer taking his cut of eyeballs. I knew that that wasn’t about 200 extra words, because  that’s much easier ever than admitting here was an Ariosto once, and again the worst thing I  could do was  mention Torquato Tasso and Spencer’s the fairy queen, much too so closely together.


I sat and watched Maude, as do on Sunday evenings  to recall  when CBS meant something, as thought can one imagine a show now  based around a  yenta blowhard cow loudmouth dago Jewry woman, who looks like my mother’s fat sister when I was a boy, her nebbish Hubby as a male Edith  whipping boy, a republican doctor aced with charm and humanity by the fretting Conrad Bain, a bit of a stick in the mud, but decent and human, and his ageing pin up southern belle, Rue McCallahan, still pretty and stupid, the best type, and cute and sweet, and ying to ethnic new York yang Beatrice, the hag, who was to play that role again in the golden girls, for an auditioning young genius named Susan Harris, but of course had to relented play the southern belle made old, as the always needing and grasping, you heard me, Betty White, hanger on slider emeritus, always had to have her way, and wouldn't play Sue Ann again. Mostly I thought catching this show, it was again about something , as opposed to now where we are all in the watch list without a Perry to say anything the wile Hamilton Berger’s who wish to incarcerate us all, who would make a show now with a daughter lure childhood diva dream woman ADRIENNE BARBEAU , saucily  pretty, dark, in that way Rachel Maddow hates, sexy as all get out, in sweaters clung to  giant tits and hip huggers, she so cute, but smart, and whereas her liberal mothers daughter when speaking of abortion as if a brunette georgics jiminy cricket, a cute pin up conscious, a cute novice without  a vocation, it came, you know,  abortion as rite after ultrasound,  the death cult of the  brazen and the ugly unmarried hags, as less of a right than  a  demeaned rarity under the always shuttling differences Clinton, except for him I would guess, where it became the cost of doing business.

Who would make this show now, I thought watching  this gorgeous busty national conscious, Yo Adrianne, with as cute a girl, a maid here at the dishwater pinned, or Barney Miller, the gibing Jewish cop, mixed race as was Bilko’s barracks, Jack Soo older and sadder by still a Cato once for a clean cut razzmatazz wop on the golden age Francisosa, a squad of  Pollock’s, Hispanics, old Jews played by Russians all think are Italian and who made a career out of that vowled name, and of case  growling regent of the ragtime age, Inspector Lugre, who parleyed a one shot into being part of an ensemble  as did Scanlon in still favored new Amsterdam.  I knew that I’d tell this guy off, as got a fast response mostly due mostly using words like faggot and cunt, and  that was just the cover letter, but then, as Billy Preston said once, when we were still young and hadn’t become house fraus all yet, maybe sometimes let the bad guy win every once an a while. I aint one again of these lovable wop dunderhead villains you adore on television. As don’t often anymore, but that’d like  to know when  the Virgilian ethic if no villains went away so readily, when you need a perpetual war that sonny boys have the breed to act like nationalism didn’t play  a  role when your secrete biddies at the Jew York times kept those drums beating  for apacheistic  and not  Roman war ,as the apaches had no Cato to tell them when their love of war ever went over the tubas they were allowed those fearsomeness as there were no Jews or more importantly British there, or here as the care maybe.  Who would make Maude or anything form my hero Normans works now, whose sonnets attitude as much as a Dante and more than any Petrarch,  show will as they always do  be dropped as acceptable as   the money that  they, in laws,  find out that in fact he coined the word dark ages, as I always make sure they do. I love the silence that retires when I get off a good one.

The girl who gave me the  link was also quickly dismissed by one of these or the other, who can keep at straight, who sends me a letter, as did I, she asks, read the Deathly howls by JK WRALING. …? Nigger, puuhhhllzzze…no, the only snippets of these movies I’ve ever seen, as have had my full of gay propaganda since Homer as a kid, was the one where there was a Christmas pageant or something, and a maze made out of trees, something done by some spic who like they do now pretends he came up with something as cause the overfed  white chicks don’t know nor care who Gustavo Dore was. She tells she looked it up, and Harry at the end, echoing my line about only dragons and saints can kill dragons, he uses three ultimate curse words, showing the blackest of the black arts. They are all curse words, I email back, but she tells me, recalling me as  she read the passages, all these curse words, echoing words like empyrean, crucifix, oh what else, and such, are all in the Italian and not the Latin, she says. I could have warned you Hillary there were more nanas and smart brunettes than you had thought, or were told there were. She thinking I was on to again, something. Well, of course  I was, as that’s pretty much all English history in a nutshell, and as one thing comes off another am asked to do two more comics, one more  like Alan Moore than not, especially  his LOEG. As  kept  the original of On the mountains of the moon in some disrepair, but are  but whole, something they hate about my work is when it is whole, as on the day of the eclipse, received some email from some dump calling itself a resistance, again too echoing the boy of power, whose city as Hillary voters at  the edge of the Ionian get socked good, too bad,…well if that Irish  stewed drunken hack can revel in the fact all those long island wops lost their homes as a small price to pay so as that Bratty would be able to be reveal and   see his five perfect growth, well it wouldn’t happen until hated venial Cattiline Trump, dears, showing you understand  economics with the same pad you sue to keep your tallies. And now some Arabs are actually daring to be upset that here winter will be as many as five shows glorifying war as now John Ford ever did, as the gumba Jews try vainly to not lose the Prairie they look down upon so completely, unless in a good Roman, thus, even numbered year. Trump was demeaned far too many  times as a  nationalist, what else can one be, an in laws who demanded his Jewish son in law shut up and get  a Christmas tree, and baptize the half breed brat since gave in and named  him after Gramps Ethan. So, as the same way that Tiberius would flood the circus Maximus, even a doofus like I know it was called later the Flavian amphitheater, as opposed to some, would have false sea battles for the plebes of Rome, as to keep this piratical war going, you’d better pony up for some  bread and circus,a fadeout the kibosh on them sad commercials seen where men  without arms that the stations upon reducing the American centurion into being a dog in a junkyard  left to freeze and beg  for middlebrow mercies. Trump is a nationalist, you see, even Jews who have drunk driving in their records say as much, you too could be president if the Bush imperia wasn’t like Yale, restricted, but did he become president by demanding a wholly unconstitutional amendment to resist, yes they keep using the same words, as I have an inkling Nancy Davis and Alexander the Great had that crime family pegged, the plague of flag burring,...whose broad stripes and bought stars,…?  Ah but shamelessness is our only credo, as in the midst of a flood, poppy emerges from the ICU he uses for exhaustion, to give a rah rah speech to SMU ponies, showing again, the Bush ear is as tin as it ever was.

4. As like Love, Love, Love, as father Gore said, I wasn’t the only one who noticed that the oligarchy was using a tad too many Orwellian asides, as the money dries up and thus Jewish gumba men of the whole cant take their commensurate third off the top.

As some hack wop, as like that ones, who my father warned me of all that time ago in some unwanted, unasked for, email, always be selling and pushing the product, made a point who Dante, called by Gore and Harold Bloom and irreproachable master choice, and whose translation by that poet laureate showed the mistake in  syntax that they  always make, some house company wop made a point in this ledger of resistance, of what and whom were ever really told, cause after all, no one said shit   when that nigger did his travel ban, …this house wop one steppe above house nigger, made a point how Dante was beneath him, and how much he loved Chaucer, who of curse as I said being a creep and it was taken down I guess from their sight, as a Resistance all along was something that you can change a five for dollars a query for, and that’s  the smallness of vendetta politics that was always going to bring the bush familia crashing down. As if anyone think I don’t know what I’m a talking about  with signora Fortuna, a surely worse proposition to the lantern holders than Voltuimort, well, it turns out that yes Julian, your knee did hit the ground, and how, once too often and so brutes, I hate about the love of the cult of Bellacheart that human gladiatorial game , against three thousand years of Roman farce had been parodied to a chess game, as chess apices don’t bleed, as espn porch monkeys fond out. But had to opine there that Chaucer adored Dante, and his debt to Boccacchio is something even yalies have to admit to, danger for peeps who disparage Virgil as a copyist, who was somehow a plagiarist and yet always wrong. This creep, as the sun was about to be blotted dot as it would being my magic story as the earth is magic in itself as Calvino said, the world was more magical when I thought it covered hell and now see it as malarkey,  a ball of mud gliding through escapes and thus had to reacquaint himself with Dante and divine,  Ovid and the sun the moon and  the elephant of Pliny, whose need to see Vulcan is reduced to mere exertion in that awful little page about AM , which made me ask, why am I reading this…?,  and can pretty much figure who Dianna Riggs in this, and various James Bonds and the rest is a lot of Ello Ello I never saw anyway. I stopped reading any annotations of this wonderer- full comic, the League of extraordinary gentlemen, did I aver mention my like from AM for knowing who Emilio Salagari, the pirate writer adored by my Ma  was, anyway, stopped reading these annotations when again words like Abilist were so used, soon enough all but white woman will be suspect as the war show, acridly not a comedy, will be brought to you by Miss Clairol, rape brought up brusquely by the apprentices of the genius, and too mostly, a disquiet for the gollywog, but again the sopranos always is just fine, in fact art at its zenith, or at least steam escaping…

Anyway, before he was covered literally and figuratively in cement with his students apprentice there—ah, the point of my story! –Italo did resort to Gore Vidal’s hated Borges dreaded word magma. This bothered me, I know not why, this email amid the corona, that you d tell someone how their work was beneath you, Dante somehow to be dismissed in this war adoring minstrel show cesspool, I can hurdle bad vespers too, all us jurist schoolboys can, ask Hilary, as saw in that day of stage stillness the barbarians perpetually at the gate of a dark ages that keeps putting quotes around it, as if it a golden age, where everything’s yellow, if it is, only severely from the too much use of pyrite. Sadly in the last warm days of summer, where I placed my Italianate witch, as she as I did dread the return to an awful school, as I said sending in the appointed query, but then sent a work they somehow never see coming, if I were a Magnus, and was close enough’s a Jesuit boy, the first thing I would do was to make the homeroom, ...disappear. It was reported that Jerry Lewis died, alas he lived a nice long life, bless his heart, as something of an unbridled monster and pompous ass emeritus, but I always admired him, too, if this is an empire without satire and even circus are barred up, how can clowns survive, much less cry out arias, as this was never Italay to begin with, you don’t have the decency to pull it off. Jerry died in the last stays of summer, sad, but bless his heart, as a fan amid this sewer, what fag was  upset abut something Jerry said, what Gook, what Jews, what anyone was upset, NOT  told to be a guy, and laugh along, and accept the jokes of his partner,   a one man Italian pro- defamation rascal......? As sadly am amid the last sways of summer, as I don’t have to swerve because I wasn’t waiting to get my envelope anyway, much less budget for less, as see I didn’t have to drop the subject about evils of statues in the Kenssate, sorry Capitoline, I not, LIKE first time, backest bencher, high yellow coon and old bat lady Ligosi didn’t want to be in the summer stock run of Bye, bye, Byrdie....oh, look whose coming to decades, EDDDDDD SULLLIVVVVANNNNNNNN. 

In this way back machine called a television set, set as it is on 1970 as my epic is and was, so fuck you to the ya magic spellers, maybe the fact that Harold bloom and the Jesus freaks hate Potterville, …Jimmy’s Christmas nightmare, remember kids…?, says something, like how we all feel about the senate now, according to the numbers. As Recall  an America when Jo Ann Pluge was still a delightful Dish, before a house yid  like Gelbart decided that somehow devoted to marriage and the god damn regular army was what MASH was written for, to begin with, and I knew it as a kid, such  just weren’t, at least not to Robert Altman admiring me. No Dishes anymore, but an Arab at one if the sites I frequent, who is ver shivitzed over as many as five war shows done for the flyover forest where the bush family gets it victims, how did I know that eventually after all that shit, squibs full of detergent blood were in their future, as Arabs again, ah, because the barbarians and the Spanish got to Italay first, before any Apaches. And so wish the soul of Jerry well, no room for such silliness in Bush land, as the dead sailors were being gathered up, senator allegedly Al FRANKEN WAS ON THE NATIONAL BISCUIT  COMPANY MORNING SHOW, A JEWRY J. FRED MUGGS EATING FRITTATAS AT A STATE FAIR , AGAIN A SCENE THAT WOULD BE  MUCH LIKE CORNELIUS TACITUS, AKIN TOO SHOWING FAT WOMAN AT THE VOMITORIUM , WHILE MEN DICED IN THE ALPS. BUT OF COURSE, HE IS ONE OF THESE ROMANS LIKE MACCERS FROM THE BACK OF THAT BOOK, IF FROM THAT BOOK AT ALL. I wish like my Caveat,  some woman mother would take one of her disposable sons, and hurl them on the stapes of the senate, truly happening in Rome, but again, I’m not holding  my breath for anything that decent happening between these weather reports. As, the only fiascoes have to do with everything else, war, and circus is an anti Constantine reminder of gals now old. And will remember of Jerry that great film, the best  about comics ever made, Artists sand models, and wish he would have done Superman as he and others wished, as sadly even Mario Puzo and Kevin Smith are net allowed their go  at the man of steal. And will recall one reason the French adore him as another Welles, Jerry did things, despite his buffoonery act, that became film itself, like cutting in the camera and videotape and a lot of stuff that bearded hack Sicilian takes credit for. But I cannot be the company Wop my father dismissed and demeaned and deterred, who allow middlebrow white chicks to say of Virgil Raphael and Manzoni, that indeed the are as good as anyone ever said they was. As but as I’ve said all year, Signora Fortuna girls, all more brooding and striking Adriennes than not’s, fly about out there, and none’s knees are safe, acutely if you spend all day looking and spitting downwards.


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